


Tell All the Stars

by Molias



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blingee, Bottom Hank, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Sex Tapes, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 03:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16547630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molias/pseuds/Molias
Summary: Hank learns about one of Connor's special features and eventually builds up the nerve to take advantage of it.





	Tell All the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> For the Jerries, who continue to be the best.

Hank found out about the recordings by accident. 

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. Hank was thumbing through an old paperback on the couch, slouched into the corner with his legs outstretched over the middle cushion, and Connor was at the other end, knitting what looked like a needlessly elaborate baby blanket for Tina Chen's upcoming child. Connor had taken up knitting as something to occupy his hands in his spare time, and while it had seemed mostly practical at first, he claimed to find it soothing and had promised to make Hank a sweater next. Hank wasn't quite prepared to admit how fucking charming he found that, so he just grumbled when Connor asked him what color he wanted it to be. 

For the most part, Connor did seem to find knitting relaxing, but on this particular day he was pretty agitated about something, if his LED was anything to go by. Hank kept seeing the rapid flicker of the LED, sometimes blue but mostly yellow, out of the corner of his eye as he read, and it was distracting enough that he set the book down at the next chapter break and tried to figure out what was going on. Connor's face certainly looked relaxed, though; in fact, he looked like he was in a fantastic mood, like knitting a baby blanket was the best fucking thing he could ask for. Connor sighed dreamily, and Hank gently poked his thigh with his foot. 

"Everything ok over there, Connor?" 

Connor stopped mid-purl and looked over at Hank, almost guiltily. "Yes, Hank, I'm fine." 

"Then what was that noise about? I know you like your knitting, but surely it isn't _that_ satisfying. And you're flashing like crazy over there." 

"Ah," Connor said. "Well." 

Hank raised an eyebrow at him, and prodded a bit more firmly with the ball of his foot. "Yeah? I was just teasing you, but based on your reaction I definitely want to know, now." 

Connor smiled, and set the blanket aside. He put his hand on Hank's foot, gently rubbing his thumb over the ankle. "I was replaying the memory of the night last week when I stimulated your prostate with my fingers until you begged me to let you reach climax," he said smoothly. 

Hank could feel a hot flush prickling over his face and down his neck. He certainly remembered that night well, and to be fair to Connor it had been on his mind a lot, too. "Oh," he said, fumbling to come up with any other reply. "Uh. You do that often? Replay memories, however that works?" 

"Oh yes," Connor said, "I do it all the time. I enjoy preconstructing possible sexual scenarios that involve you, of course, but I find it especially pleasing to replay my recorded memories of sexual experiences we've already had together. I have enough available processing power that I can easily focus on that playback while accomplishing other tasks, and barring rare exceptions like what happened just now, I can multitask in this way without it impacting my work."

Hank imagined Connor cuffing a suspect while replaying his latest blowjob on loop in some background application. Was it weird that Connor thought about sex with him all the time, or just extremely flattering? Hank figured it was the latter; it wasn't like he hadn't been distracted by thoughts of Connor lately. The difference, apparently, was that Connor wasn't usually _as_ distracted and had some sort of sex tapes to watch in the privacy of his own mind.

"Wait a minute, when you talk about recorded memories, are you saying you're actually _recording_ every time we fuck, Connor? You just have piles of pornographic home videos of me in your head and you never told me about it?" 

Connor shook his head, and patted Hank's thigh comfortingly. "It's not exactly like recording video. I _am_ able to make a recording that I could transfer into a format your phone or terminal could receive; in this way, you would be able to watch an event from my point of view, as it happened. And while I _do_ love the idea of recording you in this way, Hank, I would ask you before doing do. I am, however, constantly creating memories as I experience events, and these can be accessed and replayed whenever I wish. I suppose it's roughly equivalent to humans having sexual fantasies or daydreams." 

"The only difference being that your daydreams are perfect memories, I suppose." 

"Yes. My memory can degrade over time, of course, and part of my nightly maintenance involves clearing out unnecessary information, but I consider all files with information pertaining to you to be of utmost importance. They have their own protected subfolder and are safe from deletion or compression." 

Hank took a moment to digest this information. Somehow _he_ was worth taking up a significant chunk of Connor's internal storage? And a big part of that chunk was dedicated to sex fantasies? "Jesus, Connor, is this why you're always ready to go? You're constantly getting riled up from watching clips from your personal sex tape collection?"

Connor leaned in closer and nuzzled against Hank's beard before gently nipping his earlobe. He murmured, "I'm always ready to go, Lieutenant, because I know how pleasurable it is to have sex with you."

Hank's breath caught in his throat. "Fuck," he choked out, as Connor snaked a hand under his shirt and rubbed his thumb over a nipple. 

"I can't stop thinking about how badly I want to touch you. I think about you fucking my thighs, I think about swallowing your ejaculate, I think about you kissing my neck and stroking the green cable that runs along my spine, Hank, I think about your hands _inside_ me, leaving your fingerprints on all of my components. I --" 

His voice dropped off as Hank pulled him into a kiss. Connor moaned deep in his throat. "Let me show you," he said, and stood up, hauling Hank up by the front of his shirt with so much force Hank was pretty sure he heard some stitches tear. 

_Goddamn that's hot_ , Hank thought, and he grinned as Connor led them both into the bedroom. How the fuck had he gotten so lucky?

Much later, with Hank flushed and sweaty and Connor looking irritatingly unruffled, Connor nestled into Hank's side with a contented sigh. Hank wrapped his arm around him and gently combed his fingers through his hair.

"Hank," Connor said cautiously, "I hope it isn't too invasive, having these exact memories of you that I like to replay for myself. Maybe I should have told you about it sooner, but I didn't realize how it might seem to someone else. It feels, to me, how I imagine it feels to you to think about a memory you find pleasurable, but I realize it might be different, to you." 

"It's ok, Connor," Hank replied, scratching Connor's scalp soothingly as he continued to pet his hair. Connor cuddled closer to him and pressed a soft kiss to his chest. "It feels a little embarrassing, I guess, but that's because I haven't had anyone so damn excited about me in a long time." He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. 

"I'm not used to thinking about myself that way, and to know _you're_ thinking about me like that, and doing it all the fucking time, well. It's a lot to take in, you know?"

Connor hummed affirmatively.

"The thing is, even if it is kind of embarrassing, it's flattering as hell. I've got no right to tell you what you should be thinking about, and I'm certainly not going to say 'stop being so horny all the time,' so don't worry about it, ok?"

"Ok, Hank," Connor said, and kissed him again. 

 

Connor took Hank's words to heart and definitely didn't worry about it, apparently; after that conversation, he did his best to make sure Hank couldn't forget what he liked to do with his spare processing power. Every so often, Connor would walk past Hank at work and quietly murmur "Sunday morning on the couch," or "in the shower last night," or "after your birthday dinner" and Hank would _know_ without a doubt that Connor was replaying their past sexual exploits in detail. It was still a bit embarrassing to Hank, sure, but it was hot too, and since Connor never said anything outwardly inappropriate and Hank managed to not get _too_ distracted, he figured he'd let it ride. 

There was the one day - just one - where Hank wound up sneaking off to the rarely-used second floor bathrooms and hurriedly jerking off after one of Connor's updates. Not his finest moment, he knew, but he just couldn't help himself. Not only had Connor let him know he was replaying his memory of sucking Hank's cock while wearing only a pair of striped thigh-high socks, but he made sure to adjust his perfectly-hemmed pants just enough to let Hank see the familiar stripes underneath and realize he was wearing the same damn socks that day. That brief glimpse was enough to set him off, once he knew Connor had let him see on purpose. 

Other than that, though, he managed to ride out Connor's teasing without it causing any problems at work. Mostly. Maybe some days he was a bit too distracted, but only when faced with particularly dull paperwork that he would have blown off entirely a few months earlier. He figured Connor was still a net positive influence on his work ethic, so it was fine.

The only issue was that once Connor really hit his stride when it came to talking so explicitly about what he was thinking about at work and what he wanted to do to Hank when they got home, Hank started to realize how much harder it was for him to be that open with Connor. Of course Connor understood Hank was attracted to him, that he loved his body and having sex with him; once things got started between them, Hank wasn't shy about showing his appreciation. But he was never quite as open and shameless as Connor could be; Hank could communicate about sex just fine, but sometimes it would take him a minute to work out what he wanted to say, or he'd find that words that made sense in his head sounded ridiculous once they were out in the open. 

It was one thing to give an enthusiastic _fuck yeah_ when Connor asked if he'd like to have sex, but it was something else entirely to say "I want you to eat my ass until I cry, I've been thinking about it all day," even though he knew Connor would be overjoyed to hear it. Even though he knew Connor was pretty much always happy to have sex, that he loved when Hank was so upfront about his desires. He was trying, taking baby steps, and while it was still hard for him, he wanted so badly to get it right. 

He thought about it a lot, once the seed was planted, and a plan started to form. One he might not have been ready for yet, but he figured he would be eventually. Maybe by the time he needed it, he would be. 

 

It was three months after their initial conversation when Hank found his opportunity. Chicago's police department had been wanting to bring on android officers, but there was enough unease between humans and androids in so many areas, and few enough cities nationwide where the partnership had gone well, that their chief of police had been in touch with the DPD to ask for advice. The end result was that Hank had been asked to speak to officers at several Chicago precincts to share his thoughts and experience. He didn't feel like the most qualified person for the job; he certainly hadn't given talks or any kind of training for the past few years. Still, he _had_ been the first officer with an android partner, and he and Connor certainly had the best relationship of any human/android pair in Detroit. Reed and RK900 had settled into some sort of truce, although Hank thought something weird was going on between them, and though a few other androids had joined recently, most hadn't been assigned partners just yet. Hank was the natural choice for the job, as far as the higher-ups were concerned.

He didn't particularly mind; he hadn't been to Chicago in over a decade and figured he'd find something interesting to do on his nights off. However, while it would have been ideal for Connor to be there as well, to offer his perspective on their partnership and the wider topic of androids and police work, he'd been doing extra work on a case involving an android-run gambling ring and several affiliated homicides and Fowler was reluctant to have him away, even for a few days. Hank was a bit more expendable; he couldn't sort through a mountain of data in an eight-hour shift the way Connor could, and Connor had more personal contacts in the android community, some of whom weren't likely to be as open with other officers as they were with Connor. 

It wasn't a big deal to leave the case behind for a few days, but he knew he'd miss Connor. It wasn't like they were in each other's pockets every minute, even at home, but they were used to spending a lot of time together. Hank wanted to do something special for Connor before he left, but even though an idea had already been taking shape in the back of his mind for months, he nearly talked himself out of it several times.

It was so easy to think about what he'd tentatively planned and decide it was too embarrassing, unsuited for someone like Hank who felt entirely past his prime. He knew Connor would go nuts for it, though, and that was the entire point, so he refused to let himself back out of it. Connor deserved to have someone say the same sort of things to him that he said to Hank all the time; Hank rarely felt like he deserved Connor's affection at all, but he was determined to at least get better at reciprocating in kind, for Connor's sake. Sometimes it was still difficult to wrap his mind around the fact that Connor was so enthusiastic about sex with _Hank_ , of all people.

The weird thing was that Connor's naked enthusiasm _had_ made Hank start to feel attractive, sexy even, in ways he hadn't in years. He remembered sexting with people he dated when he was just out of college, sending a few dick pics to people who'd asked for them, and actually feeling pretty good about himself when he did. He was so out of practice when it came to appreciating his body or really believing anyone else could appreciate it too, but Connor was starting to change his mind. He knew he wanted to tell Connor these things, but the gap between _wanting_ and _doing_ still felt pretty large most days.

 

Hank was leaving early on a Thursday morning, and that Wednesday night he found himself getting a little anxious once he and Connor returned home from work. He didn't eat much at dinner, which made Connor fret and ask if Hank had disliked the pasta he'd made. He accepted Hank's deflection when he said he wasn't hungry, but Hank could still tell he was worried something was wrong. Tamping down his nerves, he stopped Connor when he went to clean up and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing a kiss into his hair.

"Would you mind taking care of Sumo's walk on your own tonight, so I can do a few things here while you're out?"

Connor leaned into him, resting his head against Hank's shoulder. "I don't mind at all, Hank, but are you feeling all right? You've been quiet tonight, and you seem distracted."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Hank said, although he was sure his heart rate had elevated slightly, and that Connor would pick up on it. 

"Are you sure?" Connor asked. "You're showing signs of stress." 

"It's not -- it's not stress," Hank said. He took one of Connor's hands in his own and squeezed gently. "I have something planned for tonight, since I'm leaving early in the morning, but I need some time to get ready and it'll be easier if you make yourself scarce for a little while." 

"That sounds promising," Connor said, perking up considerably. "Should I go ahead and take him out now, and let you get started?"

"Sooner you get out of here, the sooner I can get set up and give you your surprise," Hank said. He gave Connor a kiss, slow and sweet. "Maybe give me a half hour? That should be long enough." 

Connor whistled for Sumo, who trundled over from his bed in the living room. "Come on, boy, let's give the lieutenant some privacy," he said, giving Hank a wink. 

In truth, Hank didn't have that much to do to get ready, but he wanted to give himself time to collect his thoughts and get his nerves under control. He threw the dishes in the sink to soak, and took a brief, scalding-hot shower to try and settle the unease curling in his stomach.

When he heard the key in the lock and the subsequent clicking of Sumo's nails on the linoleum as Connor ushered him back in the house, Hank was already in bed. He was nude, reclining on a pile of pillows propped up against the headboard, and he tried to look absorbed in the book he was reading, not looking up immediately when he noticed Connor step into the room. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Connor taking in the scene, his eyes flicking from Hank's chest to his slightly flushed face to the bottle of lubricant on the side table, and back to Hank's face again. 

"Are you my surprise, then?" Connor asked, walking towards the bed and loosening his tie. 

Hank held up his hand before Connor could join him on the bed. "Sort of, but. I know we don't usually do things like this, but for tonight, can I set a couple ground rules?" 

Connor blinked slowly, wide-eyed. "Sure, Hank," he said. 

"First order of business, then. Keep your clothes on. You can lose the tie if you want, but everything else stays. Okay?"

Connor nodded. 

"Good. Next, you don't come on the bed with me. In fact, how about you grab one of the chairs from the kitchen and pull it right over there," Hank said, pointing next to the bed. "It'll be more comfortable if you're sitting down." 

Connor seemed reluctant to turn his back on the sight of Hank reclining naked on the bed. "I don't need to sit to be comfortable," he protested. 

"More comfortable for _me_ , then. Don't worry, Connor, I won't start without you." 

Connor nearly tripped over himself getting a chair next to the bed as quickly a possible. Once he was seated, Hank shifted a bit, turning slightly on his side so Connor could have a better view of his hand tracing lazy circles on his chest. 

"Now. You told me, when we first talked about those memories of yours that you like to revisit all the time, that you can make a proper recording, right?" 

"Y-yes, I haven't done so yet while we're intimate, but it's a capability I have."

Hank grinned. "Good. How about you start that up now, ok?" 

Connor had clearly not expected this. He tilted his head in confusion, not unlike Sumo when Hank fake-threw a ball for him to chase. "You want me to record you?"

"Since I'll be away for a few days, I wanted to give you something for when I'm gone. Something you can play back whenever you want, so you'll remember how you make me feel. Sound good to you?" 

Connor took a moment to find his voice. " _Yes_ , Hank. Should I start recording now?" 

Hank nodded. "Yeah, go ahead. Just remember, though, that your job is to sit back and get comfortable in that chair." Without breaking eye contact, he dragged the pad of his thumb over his nipple and watched Connor's eyes widen slightly. "This isn't a show with audience participation, got it?" 

"Got it," Connor replied. 

Now that he knew Connor was recording him, _really_ recording him, Hank felt his confidence falter a bit; he felt far too exposed and a little ridiculous, but he did his best to push through that discomfort. No matter how silly he felt, it was clear Connor was into it, and since this was all for his benefit in the first place, that was what really mattered. 

He thought about how Connor tended to touch him, and let his hands wander across his body in the same patterns. One big hand rested on his thick-furred thigh, while the other pulled on his nipples and cupped the softness of his chest. 

"You know, Connor," he said, "You've been telling me a lot about these memories you like to keep in mind. You could almost say you've been teasing me, talking about them when we're at work and I can't do a damn thing about it." Connor looked like he was about to protest, but Hank waved off his response. "It's all right, I can handle a little teasing," he said. 

"Problem is," he continued, letting his voice get rougher as he felt his arousal growing, "I haven't been spending nearly enough time telling you all the things I'm thinking about. I may not be able to stay as, ah, focused as you while my mind's preoccupied with something else, but it sure doesn't mean I don't spend half my time at work thinking about you fucking me."

Hank could feel Connor's gaze on his cock, which was lying flushed and half-hard against his thigh. He wanted to take his time, see if he could maybe make Connor feel flustered and impatient for once. Connor seemed to love nothing more than drawing things out so that Hank was a panting, sweating mess by the time things really got going; his android stamina was both a blessing and a curse, depending on how he looked at it. Hank didn't quite have Connor's stamina or patience, but it didn't mean he couldn't do some teasing of his own. 

He sighed softly. "I could barely concentrate that day you wore your dick to work and didn't tell me about it until we were already on our way there. All damn day I thought about what you were going to do with it when we got home." He pinched a nipple more roughly and moaned, remembering how eager Connor had been to pull him into the bedroom that night. After spending the entire day working him up with quiet comments about his plans for the evening, Connor had taken his time, sliding into Hank agonizingly slowly, sucking Hank's fingers while he held his gaze. 

Hank had been very thankful they'd had the next day off work. He'd needed the extra time to rest and recover, and to ask Connor for a repeat performance, which he'd been happy to provide.

He grazed his inner thigh with his fingernails, coming closer and closer to his cock with each sweep of his hand but not quite reaching it. "Do you remember a couple weeks back, when you jumped me the moment I came inside from mowing the lawn?" 

Connor nodded. 

"You wouldn't even let me take a shower, first," Hank said. "You wanted to lick all that sweat off me yourself, because you're nasty." 

This time Connor did protest. "I enjoy the data I get from analyzing all of your bodily fl--"

"Yeah, because you're _nasty_ ," Hank interrupted. "It's ok though, I like it. You were so handsy, you barely let me walk in the door before you were pulling my shirt off." He brushed the backs of his knuckles against his cock, just barely making contact, and watched Connor's pupils dilate. 

Hank thought of how he'd protested and laughed before eventually giving in and letting Connor bury his face in his chest hair and, yes, lick his sweat. "You marked me up pretty good after you had your way with me, remember?" 

Connor snapped his gaze from Hank's cock to his face. "I only bit you that hard because you asked me, Hank," he said, and Hank laughed. 

"Of course I did. It's good to have a little sore spot I can carry around with me after, you know? I can press on it and remember how I got it." He prodded two fingers against a spot just below his collarbone; there was no visible mark anymore, but Connor had bitten the darkest bruise into him there, and it had been sore for well over a week. He'd definitely spent some time at work fingering the sore spots under his clothes when no one was looking. "I know you like when I ask you for things, but that's pretty much always something I want you to do." 

"Not now, though," Connor said. He gave Hank a little pout. "I'd be happy to bite you now, Hank, I _want_ to, but you told me not to."

"Right now your job is to stay put," Hank reminded him. He finally, _finally_ wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking gently, just enough to soothe some of the ache and give Connor something to look at. "And don't take your eyes off of me." 

"I won't," Connor said, and his voice sounded oddly harsh, almost staticky, in his arousal. "Please, Hank, I want to see." 

"Hmmm," Hank said, slowing down the pace of both of his hands, "is this what you like to watch? Are you thinking about what you'd be doing if these were your hands?" 

"I'd ask if you want my fingers inside you," Connor said. 

"Oh, I always want that. In fact," Hank said, as he reached over to the nightstand for the bottle of lube there, "since you can't fuck me open with your fingers, I may as well do it myself. What do you think?" 

"Yes," Connor breathed. "Please." He moaned softly as Hank slicked himself up and pressed one finger inside himself. "Hank, it's extremely difficult to watch you touch yourself like this and keep myself from touching you as well." 

"You're doing great," Hank said. "Just keep watching, ok? This is all for you, for when I'm gone." He squinted in concentration as he eased in a second finger, and sighed at the stretch and fullness of it. "You like what you're seeing, don't you?" 

It felt deeply weird to ask Connor something like this; despite the boost his confidence had gotten from Connor's obvious enthusiasm about his body these past few months, there was still the lingering worry that the answer was secretly _"Why would I be excited by your old-ass ass in any way?"_

Connor, of course, said nothing of the sort. "I love it, Hank, I love seeing you like this," he said. "It's difficult not to touch you, but I have to admit that watching you is very enjoyable." 

Hank winked at him. Or, he hoped he did; it had been so long since he'd tried to wink at anyone that he could have just made a weird squinty face at Connor instead. Hopefully he got the idea across. 

The angle wasn't ideal, honestly, and he wasn't particularly flexible; fucking himself on his fingers wasn't the easiest thing in the world. But hell, it still felt good, and the sight of it was clearly driving Connor wild, so he kept at it for a few more minutes, sliding his fingers in as deep as he could and alternating slow pulls at his cock with rough pinches to his nipples. 

"Well, if this was your hand, you'd maybe keep fingering me all night, right? I know you like to do that as long as I'll let you. But my fingers are thicker than yours, and I'm really ready to get fucked now. So here's a question for you, Connor." Hank reached under the pillow next to him and pulled out Connor's dick. 

"You can't feel anything I do with this when it isn't attached to you and synched up, can you?" 

Connor shook his head, eyes glued to Hank as he gently stroked it. 

"But you know what it feels like. You can remember that sensation perfectly. You can spend all day reliving memories of fucking me with this if you want to." 

Connor nodded. 

"And I know you want to watch me do this even if you can't feel it." 

" _Yes_ , Hank, I..." he trailed off into static as Hank parted his lips and gave it a wet, messy lick. 

It was a bit weird to have Connor's disembodied dick in his mouth. The shape was familiar, but the texture was more like high-end silicone than the realistic synthskin it was covered in when Connor was wearing it. Hank tried not to think _too_ much about how the technology worked; Connor had explained it to him once but he'd retained exactly none of the information, and he knew if he thought too much about it, he'd get pulled out of the moment. 

Still, it felt good to suck the head into his mouth and press his tongue against the underside. He loved the weight of it and the stretch of his jaw around the thick shaft. Of course, it was better when he was doing this with Connor at the other end, but this was pretty nice too, especially since it was easier for him to maintain eye contact with Connor this way. 

Hank knew Connor liked eye contact during sex; he asked Hank to keep his eyes open, to look at him, all the time. Hank found it difficult to do for long, especially when he and Connor first started having sex; it made him feel so exposed, so _seen_ , in a way he wasn't always comfortable with. Still, since it was for Connor's sake, he was trying. And since the entire point of this exercise was to do something Connor would want to see, he was doing his best to hold Connor's gaze, no matter how awkward or vulnerable it made him feel. Putting on a sex show for his partner was awkward and vulnerable enough as it was, so what was a little eye contact on top of that? 

Hank moaned around Connor's dick, letting his eyes close for a moment while he enjoyed the feeling. He'd hoped to draw things out a bit more, maybe get Connor more worked up, but now that he had Connor's weird detachable robodick in his mouth, he was extremely ready to get it in his ass. _My 25-year-old self would be so baffled by my sex life_ , he thought to himself. 

"You did such a good job picking this out, Connor," Hank said, after pulling Connor's dick out of his mouth. He'd selected it from over a dozen options, and while Hank had left his comments to a minimum so as not to influence his choice too much, it was just about exactly what he would have chosen anyway. "It looks perfect on you, it feels amazing inside of me. What do you think, should I fuck myself with it? You want to watch me fuck myself on your cock?" He winced a little, internally. This was the sort of talk he always felt self-conscious about, but Connor was able to say these things so easily, without seeming to feel silly at all. He also, Hank noticed, responded _very_ well when Hank did it.

Connor had leaned forward a bit in the chair, fingers tense on his thighs where his hands were gripping the soft fabric of his pants. "Yes, please. _Please_ let me see you, Hank." His mouth hung open a bit, as if he was panting, and the staticky sound was still buzzing behind his words. 

Hank fumbled a bit as he reopened the lube with already-slick fingers and applied some to Connor's dick; suddenly his hands felt clumsy and awkward, and Connor's unwavering gaze made him painfully aware of how he wanted to do this perfectly for him, and how he was worried about falling short. He was generous with the lube, buying himself a second more to relax and refocus, and this only served to make Connor lean forward a fraction of an inch further, more focused on Hank than ever. Was he even blinking? Maybe he'd turned that function off. 

Hank breathed deeply and focused on Connor's response, his obvious interest, and tried to push his own anxieties to the side. Connor thought he looked good doing this, he was obviously turned on by it, and his was the only opinion Hank cared about when it came to his own attractiveness. If Connor thought this was hot, who was he to argue? 

He exhaled with a deep sigh as he slowly worked Connor's dick inside himself. It was a reasonable size, not too hard to take with some preparation and plenty of lube, but it left him feeling wonderfully full. He shifted a bit, trying to find the easiest position to give himself some leverage to move, before starting a slow, steady rhythm. 

Somehow this felt more vulnerable than anything else had so far. Hank kept his eyes closed, sinking into the sensation, trying to block out any worries about what he looked like or what he _should_ be doing and instead focused on what felt good. He moved Connor's dick in shallow thrusts, feeling a warm, bright pleasure sparking and pooling at the base of his spine.

"Look at me, please, Hank," Connor said, his voice hissing and popping with static now, and Hank forced his eyes open, turning to look at Connor's intent, unblinking face. His LED was yellow and flashing wildly, no doubt reflecting how much processing power he was devoting to watching Hank fuck himself. 

"You're beautiful," Connor murmured, and that was enough, the wild truth that Connor truly believed this was the push Hank needed. He came with a wordless shout, working his hand over his cock through the aftershocks until he was too sensitive for anything more. 

Hank breathed heavily for a moment, gathering his wits after the sledgehammer force of his orgasm. Connor sat statue-like on the edge of his seat, watching him greedily. Hank knew what he wanted. "C'mere, you weirdo," he said, beckoning Connor with his semen-covered fingers. 

Connor launched himself from the chair onto the bed, grabbing Hank's hand and sucking on his fingers with a blissful moan. Hank wiped off his other hand and tangled his fingers in Connor's hair as he sucked his fingers clean, and trailed his hand down the back of Connor's neck as his moans and sighs stuttered and grew more intense. 

Hank figured he'd get inside the little panel on the back of Connor's neck and stroke some wires to get him off, but he was already so overstimulated there was no need; with a final, glitched-out sigh, Connor went rigid, LED flashing red and going completely dark for a moment, before coming back to himself and slumping down over Hank. 

"You back with me, sweetheart?" Hank asked, pulling Connor up to snuggle more comfortably against him. Connor mumbled a vaguely affirmative reply and burrowed his face into Hank's armpit. They stayed like that for a short while, and Hank felt some of his residual tension and embarrassment flowing out of him as his heart rate slowed.

After a few minutes of quiet cuddling, Hank nudged Connor. "I need to hop in the shower before bed, want to join me?" Connor agreed, and they spent long enough in the shower making out and soaping each other up that Hank felt vaguely guilty about wasting water. 

Back in bed, Connor spooned up behind Hank and kissed the back of his shoulder. "Thank you for that, Hank," he said. "I'm aware that you went outside of your comfort zone to do something nice for me. I really do appreciate it, and I assure you I'll make good use of the footage I collected while you're gone." 

"I hope so," Hank replied sleepily. "Not sure you'll see me do that again anytime soon, but it was good for me too. You make it easy to do things I never thought I'd be comfortable with, so, uh, thanks. For that." He interlaced his fingers with Connor's where they'd draped over his chest. "I'll miss you when I'm gone, but I think it was good to have an excuse to try something new." 

 

The four days Hank was away passed more quickly than he'd expected them to; he was kept pretty busy in Chicago, and by the time he returned to his hotel in the evenings he was so worn out from talking to people all day that he didn't do much other than order in room service, take a hot shower, and go to bed. 

Connor was making sure he didn't feel too lonely by sending plenty of updates, both about little details around the house (Sumo managed to break into the cabinet where his treats were kept and ate half a bag of expensive duck jerky in one afternoon) and about how much he was enjoying Hank's video. He seemed equally fond of a sigh Hank made at timestamp 0:04:13.12 and the way he bit his lip at 0:07:44.29, and was spending a lot of time analyzing the way Hank's cock twitched every time he pulled roughly on his nipples. 

_I'm glad you're keeping yourself busy while I'm gone_ , Hank texted to Connor after hearing this latest update. He'd just wrapped up his last talk with a group of humans who were going to be assigned android partners once they finished their police training, and was taking a brief coffee break before having lunch with some of the senior officers. 

_This footage is keeping me well-occupied, thank you_ , Connor replied. _I've spent a considerable amount of my processing power watching and analyzing it while you've been away._

 _Do you have a favorite part?_ Hank sent, even though he could feel himself blushing as he did. Was that fishing for compliments? Or just being flirty? 

_Oh yes,_ Connor responded near-instantly, _let me show you._

A moment later, Hank received a gif. Of himself. 

He nearly choked on his coffee as watched himself ejaculate, over and over again, surrounded by pink sparkly text that read **~W O W~** and **HOT BOY** in perfect Cyberlife Sans. 


End file.
